The War of Dragons
by Dark-Wolf87
Summary: Hey all. If you’ve read the fanfic The War of all Wars, this is th real version. I had to post it on another account due to the fact that I couldn’t post anything on my new account, this one.
1. Prelude

Disclaimer: This is the tale of a land known as _Lordaeron _and _Azeroth, _but 500 years after the story of Warcraft 3.Both countries belong to Blizzard Entertainment, but I have borrowed them.

History of Lordaeron after the battle on Mount Hyjal: Lordaeron, the once beautiful country rich with beautiful human cities and castles, is in ruin. The times of old have long passed and the Alliance has been reduced to that of a dream. After the Tree of Life was destroyed, peace and prosperity returned to the besieged kingdom. Arthas, the King of Betrayers as he came to be known, had disappeared to the harsh and frozen world of Northerend. The few undead that had survived after the flee of their master were quickly terminated or chased underground. There was peace for almost a century, until one king rose to power. His name was Farran, Ruler of Lordaeron, and it was by his doing that ended the Alliance and brought Lordaeron down to a mere pile of rubble. Farran was not a very wise king, he lacked the ability of making good judgments, and the fact that he had corrupt advisors did not help the situation as well. For many of his advisors were puppets of the Lich King, Arthas of Northerend. While Arthas had retreated to Northerend, he had put on the armor of the Lich King himself, making him immortal; Arthas was that of the gods; and with this power, he honed his skills, waiting for the right time. There was a demon gate in Lordaeron, closed by the High Elves of Quel'Thalas hundreds of years ago, that held just the army Arthas needed to complete his deeds of death. It was the Gate of Dragons. Arthas attempted to have Farran open it by having undead remnants lure his army towards it, but a sudden attack from the orcs of north Lordaeron changed his plans. The orcs had raised the capital of Lordaeron, with heads on pikes all around. The Army of Farran quickly turned around and headed home. Arthas became enraged with this misfortune and thought. Finally, Arthas unlocked the demon gates of old in the waste lands unleashing the terrible army of the Scourge again to attack the country of Lordaeron. Farran had enough soldiers to counter and even destroy this attack, but he did not, an to this day no one knew why. Instead he led his Army away to the south west, allowing the undead to completely destroy Lordaeron. Farran quickly blamed the unleashing o the undead on the elves, for he had no idea Arthas was still alive, which caused a huge war between the two races that is known as the Great War of Farran. The elves also destroyed most of Lordaeron's southern border causing Lordaeron to be no more than a memory. Because of this, the Army of Farran was cursed to roam Lordaeron until the undead menace was stopped…

The world is corrupted by bickering, killing, and war, each race willing to be dominant. It is in this story I am about to unfold that a strange alliance occurs to defeat a new, greater evil that none has seen before. This evil unlocked by the common foe, the Undead, has begun to spread throughout this Age, the Age of Darkness. The Undead have no idea what they have unleashed; they have started the War of all Wars.....


	2. Chapter 1: The Ruins of Grimore

**Chapter 1: The Ruins of Grimore**

Threnas awoke to a blood-red dawn. Blood had been spilled. He ducked out of his war tent and headed to the main fire. Threnas had rustic-brown hair and was a middle-aged man, with a face as hard as stone. He had seen many deaths in his life as expressed on his face with thick wrinkles and heavy eyelids. He was a bold and strong commander, his walk straightforward and determined. Threnas was the leader of the Army of Farran, the miss-shaped force of humans torn apart by war and suffering, cursed to wander countries with no home. The undead army, known as the Scourge, attacked all the time making it impossible for the humans to settle anywhere for long.

Threnas sat at the fire next to his captain and ripped a chunk of meat off of the pig roasting over the fire. "Any sign of Korr?" Arthis inquired to his Captain.

"None yet milord, but ai'll inform you the moment Ah do," the Captain replied.

Threnas gazed into the flames as they danced and licked against the blackened pig. Korr was Threnas's one and only son. Korr had been given permission to go on a rescue mission to the Ruins of Grimore for any survivors of a recent Burning Legion attack. It had been two weeks since then. Although worried and grieved, Threnas's features remained the same. He took a big bite out of the pig and chewed slowly. He had no doubt his son would find his way, but had the Undead attacked him?

"He'll be alright milord," the Captain reassured," 'e has Prunc and 'is squad of swordsmen with 'im...besides, give that laddie a rapier, and 'e could slay three Death Knights afore you 'ould have a chance to even draw yer sword."

Threnas's lips cracked into a slight smile. It was true; Korr had always been expert with the rapier. He had fought three men in a training match with wooden sticks, and all three were on the ground, lumps beginning to form on their heads. There was no need to worry, Korr would return to him soon. Threnas's swallowed his last bit of meat and returned to his tent to get changed into his armor. You never knew when the Undead would strike next...

Korr battled on valiantly in the Ruins of Grimore. Just as Korr and Prunc had arrived and found some of the survivors, they had been attacked be a group of Death Knights and Death Spawns. Korr sprinted and dove through a small gap in a crumbling wall just as a black arrow whizzed by. Korr peeked out the whole to see the arrow quivering in the ground where he had been just a moment before. His pure blonde hair was drenched in sweat that ran down his face, burning his crystal-blue eyes. Korr was in his early twenties, young and strong, and his face showed no signs of aging. Korr drew his black-bladed rapier from his silver-studded sheath that hung at the side of his shining silver armor. Korr's eyes turned a fiery red as he watched a soldier being mercilessly killed by a Death Knight. Korr's whole body tensed as he tapped into the magic held within him. "Gladius Moŕtua!!" Korr yelled. Korr's blade was instantly engulfed in black flames, licking the hilt of his rapier and the ground hungrily. Korr charged out of the opening crying his war cry, "Farrrraaaaannnn!!!!!!!" With one easy sweep, Korr's blade went clean through the Death Knight. There was a small explosion of black fire as the Death Knight disintegrated into a pile of ash. Suddenly, two more Death Knights were upon Korr, their deadly, rusty blades drawn, dripping with fresh blood. Korr's eyes grew redder until it seemed as if they were on fire themselves. The first Death Knight marched towards Korr, its bright yellow eyes challenging Korr. A Death Knight was a huge spawn of evil, covered from head to toe in rusty grey armor. No one had ever seen a Death Knight without its armor, but old wives tales had said that if one did, they would die of fright. Korr's eyes glared back at the Death Knights, equally challenging. As the Death Knight approached, Korr held up his hand and counted under his breath, "Three, two, one…Moŕs!" Instantly, an arrow-like beam of black light protruded from Korr's palm and continued straight through the Death Knight's chest. The Death Knight screeched as it crumpled to the ground. Korr acted fast. He sprinted full speed at the other Death Knight his rapier ready. When he was close enough to hear the Death Knight's ghastly breath, he plunged his rapier deep into the black heart of it. Before the Death Knight knew what happened, it crumpled to the ground, just like its other friend. Korr walked to a crumbling wall, wiping the black blood of Death Knight on the grass as he went. Suddenly, there was a shout on the other side of the wall. "Korr!!!" It was the yell of Prunc. Korr quickly sheathed his blade, and pulled off the bow that was slung across his back. Korr notched an arrow into the bow and climbed to the top of the wall. Prunc was backing up slowly as a Death Spawn approached, its bloody teeth clicking hungrily. Prunc had no sword for he had dropped in a fight with a Death Knight. All around Prunc, other soldier were fighting Death Knights and Death Spawns with swords, spears, pikes, and daggers. A Death Spawn was a cannibalistic creature. It was almost like a small, hunched over skeleton, except that it had huge, sharp claws and teeth. Death Spawns wore no armor and bore no weapon, except sometimes it would carry a cudgel if it felt like ground-human. The Death Spawn was almost upon Prunc now, it curled itself up and tensed, ready at any moment to pounce. Its deathly blank yellow eyes gazed deep into the eyes of the frightened warrior, putting a trance on him. Prunc stopped and swayed slightly. The Death Spawn pulled back, and sprang forward, its jaws wide open. _Whizz! _The Death Spawn flew back, its head pinned to the ground by an arrow through its throat. Korr grinned; a direct hit. He leaped down off the wall and hurried towards Prunc. "Thanks, boy," Prunc said wearily. Prunc was also a middle aged man, his thick brown hair streaked with spots of grey.

"Yeah, let's go old man; there is still yet undead blood to be spilled!" Korr promptly notched another arrow and hurried off towards battle, his silver armor gleaming in the morning sun. Prunc hurried over to his fallen blade. Damn these undead! Why could they not kill Korr? Prunc wondered silently as he plodded off towards battle.

Around noon the sounds of battle in Grimore died down. Korr and his platoon had been forced to retreat to the east side of Grimore. The undead had not attacked for nearly an hour. Korr stood atop the remnant of what appeared to be the side of what was once a house as he strained his eyes towards the west. The spell-casting warrior's eyes were still glowing with the heat of battle. His face had cuts and bruises all over from the deadly claw of a Death Spawn that was currently pinned to the ground with a spear, and a decapitated claw stuck down its throat. Korr didn't even wince as his squire yanked a black arrow from his arm. That undead archer is going to pay for that, he thought to himself.


	3. Chapter 2: The Lich King

**Chapter 2: The Lich King**

Arthas sat in his throne room of ice brewing in his anger. He had changed significantly over the past five centuries; his face was old and icy white with many scars from ice, sleet, and snow. His hair was a bland white, colorless and dead. Although it had been 500 years, Arthas's body was strong and hardened from trudging through snow, and building his fortress of ice. On his head was the helmet of the Lich King and on his body he wore the Cursed Armor. It was black and extremely detailed with ancient symbols etched into the adamantium plates. The thick ice handles of Arthas's throne cracked as clenched black-armored fists tightened about them. "Nexall…" Arthas rasped. An acolyte trembled in fear before the merciless Lich King.

"I'm s-s-orry, o Kind of darkness and ice, but Nexall and his nerubians were just to fast I—" The acolyte ducked away in fear as the ice throne handles shattered into millions of pieces.

"It does not please me…when my subjects…..rebel…" Arthas replied. His voice was hoarse from age and ice. Arthas relaxed a little and slumped back into his chair. "But I ….am in a good mood……today. Bring me Broxyl….or I shall make due with your head…."

"Y-y-es!! O gracious, gracious dark one!! Thank you my lord, o gracious, gracious king of all that is dead!! King-"

"Go."

That was all the acolyte needed to hear. In a flash, the acolyte had already begun descending the steps to the base of the great ice throne. Arthas let out a deep, troubled sigh. He did not like deserters. He did not like acolytes. Arthas raised his hand and said harshly, "Potuї." Instantly, a black orb the size of a basket ball appeared in front of the dark king's eyes. "Show me…….Nexall…." Arthas commanded as he swept his hand over it. The black, lifeless orb shimmered into life. In the orb, Arthas could see a mountain, covered in trees and ice. The orb zoomed to the top of the mountain to show a portal three Nerubian Warlocks on top chanting around a circle of stones. "A portal….of teleportation…..No doubt those are sacrificial Warlocks….a spell that great…" Suddenly, a beam of light shot out of the ring and blasted into the sky. Hungry white flames licked the air and ground, searching. Nexall come in to view. The great spider-like creature towered a head's length at least above the other Nerubians. "Kzacks!" he ordered in his Nerubian tongue. The three Warlocks bowed and simultaneously stepped into the burning light. Their cries echoed throughout the icy wasteland as their bodies burned into ash. The light stopped, revealing in the ring of stones a door. Nexall opened the door and looked in to see scorched hills and a ruined city on the other side. "Zryll! Kuzks rєҝnazdan!" Many Nerubians came forth, piling through the door. Arthas waved his hand over the sphere and once again, it turned to blackness. Arthas growled with rage. Those cursed Trackers! Why had they not defeated Nexall? Something was wrong. Arthas had supplied the tracker's force with undead necromancers and a squad of Death Knight Elites……more betrayal perhaps? Arthas rose from his frozen throne and snapped his fingers as he walked to the icy stair case that spiraled down his throne platform. In a flash of light, Arthas's blade of death appeared in his right, clenched fist. Frostbourne, the blade that had caused so much death; Frostbourne, the blade that caused Arthas's insanity; Frostbourne, the prison of Arthas's soul. The deadly black blade gleamed in the light that shone dimly through the cavern of ice. Arthas's black, cold eyes fumed with anger.

The acolyte had quickly begun ascending the steps. He didn't like his dangerous and unpredictable master; no, it wasn't that he dislike him, he _feared _the merciless lord of ice and darkness. As the acolyte turned to rush up the next part of the staircase, he looked up to see Arthas blocking his path. "M-m-m-mas-t-ter!" the acolyte pleaded.

"Where…is…Broxyl?" Arthas inquired darkly.

"B-broxyl? Oh, yes o dark one! Broxyl, he h-hasn't returned y-yet…"

Arthas stared deep into the eyes of the terrified acolyte. The acolyte tried to release himself from the gaze of the dark lord, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't. The acolyte trembled with fear as he saw the side of Arthas's old, cracked mouth twitch up in to what seemed to be a smirk. The servant shrieked in pain clawing and scratching at his head, as if trying to satisfy and intensifying itch—inside his brain.

"At any moment…I could…crush your brain….with the flick…of my hand…" Arthas stated with some amusement as he watched the creature writhe about on the ground ever clawing at his head. "Now…I want you….to find Broxyl….and kill him…shade…" The acolyte stopped clawing at his head and whimpered, "Sh-sh-shade? But for that, I m-must sacrifice my m-m-mortal b-body! I---AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!" The icy cavern echoed with the screams of pain and death as Arthas transformed the pitiful creature, into a silent assassin.

Therenas still had no word from Korr. He paced nervously in his tent. Hadn't he told Korr to send a messenger as soon as he arrived in Grimore? It only took two days ride from his current position. Perhaps Korr had run into difficulties along the way? Therenas shuddered at the thought of Korr falling in battle. Therenas finally sat down on his bed of furs, dwelling in his thoughts.

A loud cry echoed through the camp that startled Therenas. He must of dozed off being so worried about Korr. "Undead! They come from the east!" the voice yelled. Therenas came to full alert. He quickly got up, buckled his hilt and sword around his waist, and put on his golden helm to match his golden armor. Therenas rushed outside giving out orders left and right as he made his way to the temporary watch tower. "Brutus! Prepare the knights! Leon! Get your archers in position! Formation C! Go!" Therenas made it to the base of the tower and began to scale the ladder with great agility. "Where?" Therenas ordered to the watch man as he climbed through the opening in the floor.

"There milord!" the archer responded, pointing towards the hills about a mile to the east.

"I see…"Therenas stated calmly. "Gerrant! Take a scouting party out. I want to know how many troops are coming on the double!" Therenas shouted down to


End file.
